Rock Starred: Love My Way

by Karen Booth

  Mr. Expensive Suit gruffly cleared his throat and grabbed my elbow. "I thought I was buying you a drink, gorgeous."

  Before I could answer, Peter grasped my hand. "Sorry, guy. She's with me." He led me to the other end of the bar while Tony and Gwen tagged behind us. "What a loser." His lips might have been delivering words, but they were carrying on an entirely separate conversation with me. "He tries to buy you a drink and he thinks he can grab your arm like that?"

  I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Peter's hand, still wrapped around mine. "Some guys will do that."

  Gwen cleared her throat and parked her hand on her hip.

  "I'm sorry," I said, shaking off the spell that Peter had cast on me. "Peter, Tony, this is my best friend Gwen. We're here for a girls' getaway."

  Gwen smiled wide. Apparently running into a few rock stars was enough to improve her mood. "Hi. I love your band."

  That was all the invitation Tony needed. "Gwen, is it?" He took her hand and blatantly peered into her cleavage. He towered above her, swaying, closing his eyes as if he might nod off at any moment.

  I leaned and whispered in her ear. "They call him Stony."

  Tony wasn't quite the stunning specimen that Peter was, but he was attractive in a primitive, muscle-bound way. His beefy arms strained against the sleeves of his t-shirt and his head was shaved bald, which I already knew was one of Gwen's big turn-ons.

  The bartender brought our drinks and Peter leaned into me as he picked up the glasses. "Katie." His steely blue eyes suggested several indecent acts in a tiny amount of time. "Why don't the four of us take this outside?"

  Peter was dangerous territory. I'd known that the day I'd photographed the band. He was way too handsome, way too nice, way too willing to discuss photography, a topic I'd gladly go on about all day. Plus, I didn't have to guess with him. He'd made it clear he was interested, persistent with phone calls, emails and text messages over the last month.

  We'd flirted during those exchanges. Big time. Things escalated, edging toward naughtier, more suggestive quips. Maybe I shouldn't have done it, but I'd wanted to. It was fun to have a back-and-forth with a witty and dead-sexy guy. More importantly, it was safe. Distance meant there was no risk of things getting physical, little chance of me getting overly attached. That led to hurt if I truly liked a guy and I couldn't help but like Peter.

  He opened the door that led out to the terrace overlooking the pool. I attempted to go first but he pulled me aside and Gwen and Stony went ahead. Gwen turned to me as she walked, shrugging.

  "I'll be out in a sec," I said.

  Peter let the glass door close and gripped my elbow. "Katie, I have to say that I'm really excited that we ran into each other. Talk about luck." His thumb rubbed back and forth across my skin, his voice softened and became husky. "I hope you're happy to see me too. Your last text said you would think about it. That was a week ago and I've heard nothing since then."

  He was just close enough that his smell was disorienting, a heady waft of musky man. "Sorry. I've been really busy. I had a photo shoot in England last week. Travel. Jet lag." The stuff about being busy was absolutely the truth, but it wasn't everything. The other piece of the puzzle was what I'd said I would think about—an invitation to fly out for a weekend to see his band. It had sent familiar panic through me and all I could do was put my head down and get back to work. Work was safe.

  "Okay." He glanced down at his feet and when he looked back up, his eyes were hypnotic, as if they were shiny pools of molten metal. "It's just that I like to know where I stand. I don't want to make an idiot of myself, you know, if I don't have a chance. Sometimes I have a very hard time reading you."

  I tried to imagine a scenario in which Peter wouldn't have a chance with a woman. That seemed impossible. It was no surprise he had a hard time reading me, I was torn between a crushing dose of attraction and my rules of no attachments and no sleeping with guys I might want to keep as a friend. It wasn't fair to him, but that was already Strike One against Peter.

  "We talked about this the day we met. I don't get involved with clients."

  "Ah, but I'm not really a client anymore. It's been a month since you photographed the band."

  "True."

  "So? My chances? Because I'll leave you alone if you want me to."

  Of course I didn't want him to leave me alone. I was dumb, but I wasn't stupid. "Why don't we just have a drink and see where that gets us?" Even that much felt as though I'd stepped too close to the fire.

  "Talk about a non-answer."

  "Surely you appreciate the challenge of the unknown."

  He laughed and shook his head. The soft light in the bar made his blue eyes blaze. It was enough to make me forget my name. "I love a challenge. When there's a payoff."

  "Regardless of what happens, I'm sure you'll sleep like a baby tonight." I patted his arm, my breath hitching at how firm it was.

  His eyes narrowed. "You're really just going to leave me flapping in the breeze, aren't you?"

  "Sorry. No promises." I opened the door and glanced over my shoulder. Apparently the fit of my jeans was doing the job, as Peter seemed to have difficulty closing his mouth. "Shall we?"

  The thick, late-May Miami air filled my lungs in the darkness, a sliver of a moon the only light out on the terrace. Stony and Gwen were seated at a table at the far end, but we were otherwise alone. Stony's arm draped across Gwen's shoulders and I was dismayed to see that she wasn't objecting. Her boyfriend Ted was a good guy and although they argued a fair amount, they were good for each other.

  "She has a serious boyfriend," I grumbled as we approached.

  Peter snaked his arm around my waist and tugged me closer. He leaned down to mutter into my hair. "I'm sure she can take care of herself." The tip of his nose grazed my ear, the most innocuous brush of skin against skin, and yet it made me desperate for air.

  We each took our chair and Peter scooted his right next to mine.

  "So, girls' weekend. What does that entail? Picking up strange men and dancing on the bar?" Peter asked.

  "Oh yeah," I quipped. "Body shots. Orgies. You name it."

  "Sounds suitably hedonistic for the life of a beautiful rock photographer." Peter reached under the table and smoothed his hand over my thigh.

  I took a sip of my mojito to cool the heat he'd just created between my legs. Every time he touched me my defenses dropped. "Actually, it's just an excuse to order expensive wine at dinner and sleep in."

  "That sounds even better." Peter trailed his fingers north at an achingly slow pace.

  Words were my only way to stay on equal footing, to counteract the ways he broke down my resolve with his hands. "That's one way to start things," I said quietly.

  He slid his hand back down to my knee. "I'll start this any way you want." He cocked his head to the side. The look in his eyes became impossibly welcoming. He was up for anything and everything. No question about that.

  "Good to know," I mumbled, bristling with curiosity at the gentle swell of his lips. What would it be like to kiss him? Sweet and soft? Fast and furious? Part of me was dying to know. The other part, the part that spends way too much time thinking, delivered a surprisingly helpful reminder—Peter could have any woman he wanted. Worrying that he'd want anything more than one night was worse than presumptuous, it was idiotic. He was in a band, on to the next town and the next girl after tonight.

  So maybe this could work. Maybe I could give in to what I wanted and not leave Peter wondering any more. We could have our one night. If I were honest, it was perfect—it was all he was asking for, and all I was prepared to give.

  Gwen smiled and her eyes flashed when Stony whispered in her ear. "Did you say something, Katie?" she asked with a giggle before she chugged the rest of her drink.

  I cleared my throat and sat back in my chair, swirling ice cubes with the straw and glancing over at Peter, who bent his eyebrow before winking at me. He absolutely knew that I was putty in his hands. "No. Nothing."


  Stony leaned closer to Gwen. "Another drink, babe?"

  "That would be great. These are so yummy. I think I could drink them all night."

  Several mojitos later, things with Gwen had spiraled downward. She switched seats, deciding that Stony's lap was preferable to the cushioned patio chair. She wiggled as she laughed and I assumed there was no way for Stony to stand up without his jeans telling us how much he was enjoying her company.

  "They like each other," Peter whispered with hot breath against the sensitive skin beneath my ear. He'd snuck his hand into the back of my slinky top moments earlier. I couldn't help but smile when he made a sound akin to "Eureka!" as he realized I wasn't wearing a bra. "Like us, right? Tell me you like me, Katie." He slowly slid his way around my rib cage, his surprisingly soft hand cupping the underside of my breast and his fingertips grazing my nipple.

  The languid pace of his caresses was like honey dripping from a spoon, so intoxicating that I closed my eyes, a shallow breath rushing past my lips. "I do like you, Peter. You're sweet." My head dropped closer to his as if he was the metal and I was the magnet.

  "I've had better reviews."

  "Sorry. That was just the first thing that came to mind."

  Gwen turned her back to us, sharing a quiet moment with Stony. I studied her body language and cursed the day he was brought into the world. In an instant, she suggested we adjourn upstairs for a continuation of the evening's festivities. I glared at her and excused the two of us to the ladies room. Peter wore a content grin as we got up from the table and Stony swayed again.

  "Gwen, honey, you do realize what's happening here, don't you?" I asked once we were alone in the bathroom. "Because if you go upstairs with Stony, I assure you that you're not going to be playing Tiddly Winks."

  She stared into the bathroom mirror with a glazed expression, her mascara smudged under one eye. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since Ted looked at me the way stoner Tony is looking at me?" She fixed her mascara, her pale-green eyes twinkling from the mirror. "And you know what? I deserve to have a guy look at me like that. Tony is fun and he wants me, Katie. You would not believe the stuff he said to me. Dirty stuff." She opened her eyes wide as if she was trying to sober up. "What's up with you and Peter? Jesus, he's hot."

  I set my purse on the vanity. "Yes he is and you know me, one step at a time."

  She smiled in the mirror. "Yeah, right. You and I are both getting lucky tonight."

  My mouth gaped. "Whoa. Okay. We need to talk. You are not sleeping with Tony. Give me two secs."

  I took a three-mojito pee, grumbling to myself about how crazy Gwen was acting. "Gwen, honey, this is a really bad idea," I called out to her. She didn't respond and I tucked in my blouse. "Gwen? Hello?" I zipped up my pants and stepped out of the stall to an empty ladies' room lounge. "Fuck."

  Chapter Three

  Peter and I tracked down Stony next to a potted palm by the elevator, but Gwen was nowhere in sight. I called her phone and got voicemail, but I had a text from her as soon as I ended the call.

  Second thoughts. Tell Stony I'm sick. Have fun.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and replied.

  Got it.

  I shook my head in mock dismay. "Oh damn. Sorry, Tony. It sounds as though Gwen is sick. Probably too many mojitos."

  Confusion washed over his face. "Sick, as in I'm not going to see her again tonight?"

  "Too bad, huh? Sorry." I stuck out my lower lip. Hopefully, no one would realize I was going for the Oscar with this performance.

  "You could always head downtown, man. See some bands or something," Peter said. He pushed the up button on the elevator.

  "Okay," Tony said, with a hint of defeat in his voice. "I'll ask the doorman where I should go to find women. Catch you guys later."

  I took solace in watching Tony walk away. Crisis averted.

  Peter slid his hand to my lower back, gently pressing my hips into his. "Finally we're alone." He dipped his head and softly brushed his lips against mine.

  I was about to surrender to the kiss when the ding of the elevator kept us from violating any rules of public decency. "Yes, alone."

  We stepped into the dimly lit elevator. As the door slid closed, Peter took my hand and gently looped my hair behind my ear. He allowed his lips to skim the dip between my shoulder and neck. I steadied my hand on the metal handrail as his mouth and tongue sent need shuddering through me. Each subtle, craving movement of his lips was another reminder of how badly I wanted him.

  We got out on the eleventh floor and Peter keyed his way into his room at the end of the hall. I heard the door close as I stepped into the beautifully appointed suite, the king bed with the golden silk duvet already turned down for the night.

  Peter came up behind me and wrapped both arms around my waist. He gently kissed my neck and muttered, "I'm a good guy, Katie, I swear."

  My chest heaved as I sucked in a breath. That's what worries me. "I know you are."

  "It's hot in here," he said.

  I turned and my breath caught in my throat as I watched him lift his t-shirt over his head. His chest was incredible—firm and muscular but not overbuilt. An enticing trail of dark hair ran down his flat stomach below his bellybutton, leading my mind beyond the waistband of his jeans, low-slung around his hips. My cheeks flushed. Peter was right. It was hot in here.

  "What's your poison?" he asked as he bent down and opened the minibar.

  I kicked off my heels and smoothed my hands over the landscape of his back. "I don't need a drink."

  "Mmm." He twisted around and wrapped me up in his arms, kissing me tenderly. His tongue slid past my lips, playfully encouraging mine to tangle with his.

  My hands slid along the contours of his trim waist, my fingers stopping when I felt the inviting curve of his hipbone. I reached down and cupped the rock-hard ridge in the front of his pants. He kissed me, moaning into my mouth when I pressed into him with the heel of my hand. I unzipped his jeans and let them drop to the floor.

  He circled his hands over my lower back and nuzzled my neck with balmy, sweltering breath. "Will you do something for me?"

  "Maybe," I answered with a rasp in my voice.

  "I want to watch you take off your clothes. Slowly."

  I pushed down on his shoulders and he sat perched on the edge of the bed. I stood inches away from him. If I was going to get the most of my one night with Peter and he wanted me to do all of the work, it was going to be on my terms. The anticipation of the evening ahead was too lovely not to savor. "Okay," I said. "I'll take off my clothes for you, but no touching."

  He leaned back on his hands, his cock stiffly standing at attention inside his black boxer briefs. His legs were lanky but solid, with a raised scar across one of his knees. "What's the point if I don't get to touch you?"

  "You do eventually. Think of it as a game. We can see how much self-control you have."

  "I can already tell you it's almost zero. Especially when I'm around a beautiful woman and have a raging hard-on."

  I smirked at him. "Humor me." I began slowly, my fingertips tracing the neckline of my top. I pitied him as his gaze traveled up and down my body and he seemed to wrestle with a few impulses. I crossed my arms and gathered the hem in my hands. Peter's eyes flashed with anticipation as I showed him a sliver of my stomach. I turned away and slipped my top over my head. It skimmed my back as it dropped to the floor. The bed creaked. Heated breaths grazed the small of my back. "No cheating." I glanced over my shoulder to find his hands hovering near my hips.

  I cupped my breasts, rolling my head to the side and quietly moaning as even my own hands felt incredible against my skin. My nipples puckered and grew taut as I turned back to him.

  "Move your hands," he said.

  "Like this?" I asked, biting my lower lip and rolling them in circles, my breasts full and firm.

  "No." He closed his eyes for an instant. "I mean, yes. That's hot, but I want to see you."

  I fought a smile a
nd peeled back my fingers, watching his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed. His eyelashes were absurdly long and dark, his lips plump from kissing. Glancing down, I wondered how long his cock could stand to be contained. I eased closer and reminded him, "No touching. Not yet." I moved my breast close to his mouth, his hot breath huffing against my skin. I lowered my chin to my chest as he eyed my nipple and the anticipation engulfed me. "You can use your tongue, but no hands."

  His lower lip sat just beneath the tight bud and he flashed his eyes up at me before taking my nipple into his mouth. My eyelids drifted shut as the tip of his tongue teased me with deft swoops, delicate circles and pleasing flicks. I longed to stretch out on the bed and relinquish control, have him take command, but that would have meant abandoning my game, and this particular game left me in charge. As much as it was physically painful to do, I pulled away from him.

  I smoothed my hands over my stomach and unbuttoned my black pants. Peter grinned as I undid the zipper and the fabric slid down my legs. I turned away again and used my thumbs to wriggle my lacy boy shorts down my hips. I looked back over my shoulder to see him eying my ass as if he hadn't eaten in days.

  "How are we doing back there?" I asked.

  "You're fucking driving me insane. Let me touch you." His lips inched closer to my lower back and my knees threatened to buckle.

  I smirked. His frustration was insanely cute. "All in good time. Lie down." I turned as he did what I'd asked. "Scoot back on the bed. Put your head on the pillow."

  He watched me while crawling backward on his elbows. Without question, he was one of the best-looking guys I'd ever been with, if not the best. His features were angular, his nose had an adorable bend to it, and I wondered if he'd been a jock when he was in school. He certainly had the body for it. Not like a football player, but long and lean, as if he'd played baseball or run track.

  He sat up. "Jesus, Katie. Just get over here. Now."

  "Relax. I want you to lie back down and close your eyes."